Sustenance
by Veronika Green
Summary: Maybe, he was being too altruistic. If not him, though, then who?


**A/N - Out of sheer boredom today, I've written a little oneshot on Fiyero's 'death' and what he must be feeling. I also included parts of his childhood in it, seeing as I always wonder what it must've been like. It's probably completely inaccurate, but whatever. I like this one a little, I didn't have to force it, lol. Although there are some parts that could use some…:ehem: work. But, I'm a poor writer, so you're going to have to deal. Oh yea, and this is a cross between musical/book, because I want Fiyero to look like he did in the book. Mkay?**

The pain he felt was almost unbearable. Closing his eyes, he prayed to Lurlina, the Unnamed God, Kumbricia, _whoever - _that it would go away. He bit his lip against the pain, telling himself that he would stay strong and not cry out. He didn't really care that the Force - and he _was _the Force - was trying to kill him.

It was either him or Elphaba, and even though it had only been one night, he thought that he would die without her. He would die for her, too, which was exactly what he was doing. Seeing the fear in Elphaba's eyes had sent a shiver of trepidation down his own spine. If Elphaba was scared, and it was obvious in her character, there was reason to fear - she was no recreant.

Looking back, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.

Maybe, he was being too altruistic. If not him, though, then who? Then again, was this an act of selfishness? He couldn't live without Elphaba, so he was going to die? No, he told himself, you'd die anyways. But what about Elphaba?

A Forcer hit Fiyero's lower spine with something heavy. Betraying his earlier promise to himself, he cried out.

"Oh, see, he's crying out now!" one of the men called. Fiyero heard him and the rest of the Force laugh. The derision that would've hurt the gala Fiyero, did not even slightly effect the bona fide Fiyero. His real self was slipping back into play - and too late, it seemed.

Fiyero tried to ignore the laughing. It wasn't difficult, though; every second he was becoming less and less coherent. But, in a contradicting sense, he found his mind was working quite intelligibly.

Something smashed into his lower leg, sending pins of pain up. Fiyero winced, knowing that his body would be going numb soon. Death wouldn't be so bad, he thought.

He began to wonder, to wonder if anyone would miss him. Would anyone even care of his death? Sure, he was a Prince, and you were supposed to mourn them. But what was a Prince, really? A title? Titles shouldn't mean anything - no matter what their autonomy. He was respected by elders the moment he had been born. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?

His life had been determined for him at birth, and he found it immensely unfair. But wouldn't any other boy be glad to already have his life paved out for him, on a road of golden bricks? A red carpet? It seemed to Fiyero that everyone wanted a life a luxury. But for those born into it - what did they want?

He remembered when he was a little boy, age seven or eight. He wasn't even sure the age mattered. But, he recalled that one day; a warm, late summer day. The burning sun bore down on him and his younger sisters as they walked towards the swimming bath his parents sometimes opened up for them when it was hot enough.

As a child, he hadn't been able to pull off his mask as easily as he could in college, and as he sat on the grassy hill, watching the watercolor sky, Fiyero's youngest sister Azale approached him. "Fiyero, what are you doing? Everyone else is down there!" Azale pointed off down the hill where Fiyero could here the excited screams of his siblings.

"I'm watching the sky, Azale. Why?"

Azale had snorted at Fiyero. "What's so special 'bout the sky? It turns colors - Woo! Big deal. My kaleidoscope changes colors, too. But you can't look at that!" Azale laughed and ran down the hill, but ended up falling and rolling the rest of the way.

Fiyero watched as she stood and rubbed her grass-stained ochre knees off, noticing no blood, so there would be no screams that minute.

He didn't laugh when Azale had fallen. Knowing that he was already destined for the throne once his father abdicated, Fiyero had a unique wisdom that was all his own, and it was a rare child -or adult- that understood him well enough.

It wasn't until later that he put on his mask. It was easier once he got into school, so his insight did not make him seem too freakish. When all he had wanted was to be normal.

Those who were born into the lap of luxury wanted to be normal. At least Fiyero did. But he couldn't, and he realized this now. But after his breathtaking night alone with Elphaba, he decided that he didn't want to be _too _normal. Because, could Elphaba love anyone with a sublime knowledge of pop culture. Could _Fiyero_ love at all?

Blood streamed into his sapphire eyes, snapping him out of his flashback reverie and making him go blind. He moaned softly, suddenly having the screaming urge to live. They had a death wish, though, and they were going to carry it through.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he wondered if this was what love had brought him. Ever since he had seen the green girl, dancing awkwardly with that _hat_ at the Ozdust, he had idolized Elphaba. Was this love?

He didn't think so. But, he supposed that this was what he got for trying to be contented in a place where such a Wizard ruled.

"Well, Fiyero, what have you to say for yourself?

Fiyero looked up to face a member of the Force - someone he had almost considered a friend, actually. When he spoke, his voice came out stronger than his whole body felt. "What have I to say for myself? You should ask this to yourself, freunde."

"You loved a _Witch_, Fiyero. You betrayed the Force, and the entire palace. The entire city, even. It's been a long time since we've had a Mole in our public works, Fiyero. How does it feel to be one?"

"Wonderful," replied Fiyero bitterly. "My life here has been nothing but lies. I'm glad to have it end if that's how it would've stayed."

"You're quiet a sad sight, Prince Fiyero. You know, if only you'd have let her go, we could've let you live." The Forcer smiled malevolently.

Fiyero clenched his jaw to prevent himself from saying anything else. Wasn't he already in enough trouble?

"This is for you and that Witch of yours, Fiyero."

Fiyero wasn't sure what it was, but he was fairly certain that his was a boulder. It had been bashed straight over his head. The pain shrouded him, then slowly faded away. Fiyero felt his body go limp, and his mind relax into a drowsy state.

As he felt his mind going foggy, Fiyero tried to remember everyone he had loved, so he could wish them well in…Should he take heart? Hell, then, why he was still thinking.

The last image his mind produced was of a little ochre boy with blue diamonds tattooed on his skin, walking alone through the courtyards of a younger Kiamo Ko, being careful not to step on any bugs as he made his way. With his little finger, he picked up a ladybug and whispered to it, "Tell me all that you want me to be." For he was never what anyone had anticipated.

It was then that Fiyero understand everything. As he went through the answers in his head, trying to remember them for something inexplicable, he found he still didn't know why he was being murdered. But then he realized it: He had loved Elphaba, his sustenance, and his life would end because of it.


End file.
